


Dear Arthur

by iamee



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Childhood Friends, E-mail, Falling In Love, First Love, Kink Meme, M/M, Pining, Pretending to be someone else, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:26:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamee/pseuds/iamee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana, Arthur and Merlin are childhood friends. While Arthur has always been hopelessly in love with Morgana, he doesn't realise Merlin's feelings for him. When Uther gets a new job the family moves from England to New York, leaving Arthur with no connection to his friends but a few E-Mails. Eventually Morgana moves on, but Merlin can't. He keeps writing to Arthur, signing with Morgana's name because he knows it makes him happy and any way, Arthur's far away, isn't he?</p><p>But ten years later Arthur annouces his visit and upon his arrival it's clear that his feelings haven't changed one bit. But will he realise that Morgana isn't the one he has felt so close to over these last years? And how can Merlin deal with all his lies when Arthur is staying at his apartment, awakening more than just memories in him...?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Arthur

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: One day, long ago, I stumbled over a lovely kink meme prompt and wasn't able to get it out of my head. So I got up in the middle of the night and started writing what later came to be an epically long angst-fest. But writing this fic has been so much fun and because of it I got to meet wonderful people. Therefore I'm reposting it here. Because all the nostalgic feelings. All of them.
> 
> Thank you, Death Cab For Cutie for providing me with Transatlanticism, because that is a beautiful song and I used it but only with tons of admiration.

**Dear Arthur**

1.

"Do you miss him?" Morgana lies on his bed, chewing gum and staring up to the ceiling, her raven hair spread on the white blanket, shimmering like silk.  
A wall clock is ticking, somewhere, in another room.  
They both know what she's talking about.

Merlin sits in front of his computer and his fingers come to a halt on the keyboard when he thinks about the question: "Of course I do."

It's 2002 and this means two years have passed since Arthur has moved to New York. Two year, five months and twenty days to be exact, but it's not like Merlin's counting.

"It's been like what, a year and a half?" Morgana rolls onto her stomach, legs up in the air and wiggles her toes in this special way only sixteen year old girls can, without looking ridiculous. "Wow, time flies." And then, after a pause for reflection, she adds. "I should write him once again."

Merlin looks at the screen, his hand squeezing the mouse slightly. There are black letters on the white, vaguely flickering background, telling about the concert of Lance's band he's been to, about late-night discussions with Gwen and about the song he can't get out of his head. The words are well-chosen, light-hearted and Merlin can almost imagine the expression on Arthur's face when he'll open his e-mail account to find a new message.  
He types the signature, quickly, nodding in reply to Morgana's last sentence.

"You promised him. I think you should."

And then he clicks on 'send message', biting his lip while the text vanishes from his screen and thinks: You just did.

oOo

Merlin's not nostalgic. He enjoys remembering the past from time to time just the same as anybody else, but he's not some daydreamer, always lost in recollections. Yes, it's probably true that he thinks about their childhood now and then, but that's all, really.

 

_It's 1995 and Merlin's memories are sepia-toned like old photographs. They are out in his grandmother's garden, Arthur, Morgana and himself.  
It's summer and they play hide and seek between the old trees, laughing and then suddenly being quiet when they crouch in their hiding spots, and their hearts are beating too fast in their chests, because it doesn't feel like a game anymore for some seconds, just before they're found and they can scream out, startled, excited and the game starts over again._

_Morgana sits on the swing, her dress is flying around her legs and she moves up into the sky and down to earth again and her hair is fluttering around her face like a black cloud. And Arthur is watching her with big eyes like he's never seen her before, no, but rather like he sees her for the very first time.  
Merlin stands beside him, he could touch his hand if he wanted to, but he doesn't, because lately his stomach feels funny whenever he's close to Arthur. So he just watches him watching her, and the sun is shining and maybe this is one of the moments when everything changes._

 

`I was thinking about the days outside of London, back then in the summer. Do you remember the garden and the swing?`

That's exactly what Merlin writes in an e-mail, nine years later and it's like he can hear the roaring laughter in Arthur's reply. 

`Sure, how could I ever forget about Merlin's granny? I've always fancied her.`

`You're disgusting.` Merlin states in the next mail. Just for the record.  
`It's a good thing I like 'Harold and Maude', otherwise I would stop talking to you.`

`Don't be jealous, Morgana. It doesn't suit you.`

A few blank lines. 

`You know I fancied you even more.`

2.

It's become a running gag, just between the two of them. Some sort of silly game, they've started. A single question attached to almost every mail, mostly trying to be as daft as possible. Sometimes just starting out like this:

`A: Do you remember this one time when I was in love with Merlin's granny?`

`M: Do you remember this one time when I set fire to the chocolate factory? I've been always afraid of Willy Wonka...`

`A: Do you remember this one time when I stole the wedding cake and was captured by aliens?`

`M: Do you remember this one time a penguin mugged my mum?`

`A: Do you remember this one time I kissed you on Leon's birthday party?`

It's always over when one of them asks about something that really has happened, when one of them wants to be serious again. Those are the rules and Merlin remembers this one time, oh, how well he remembers...

 

_It's 1998 and Merlin's begun to wonder if he might be in love with Morgana, because Arthur surely is and they almost always like the same things. But when he watches them eating cake and chasing each other when they play tag, he knows that it's Arthur who always catches his eye. That all he can see is blonde hair and white teeth and blue eyes and that he thinks he's beautiful, even if he's not sure what to make of this. He's supposed to like girls, isn't he?_

_And when he walks in on them, later that day in Leon's room, where they both giggle through the half-closed door and then suddenly keep silence, he can feel a change in the beating of his heart. Arthur's face is really close to Morgana's and her eyes are closed like the women in movies always do in such moments and usually they all laugh about it, but right now there's nothing funny about the situation_  
_Their lips touch, it's just a peck, over in a fraction of a second and then Morgana opens her eyes and squeaks when she sees Merlin in the door frame, throwing a pillow at him and laughing at his thunderstruck expression._  
_Arthur doesn't laugh, he looks sulky and for the rest of the day he doesn't want to talk to Merlin anymore._

oOo

`I hate New York.`

Arthur complains, because he's good at it.  
It's 2000 and the leaves are starting to change colour.

`I hate that my dad couldn't keep his job in London. He could run a hotel anywhere in the world, why did we have to come _here_?`` All he cares about is himself. I don't know anybody around here. The food tastes funny and my new school sucks.`  
` He says I'll understand when I'll have a family on my own and that it's only natural to make sacrifices. Once I'm an adult, I'm not going to force my children to do something they don't want. And I'll never ever move to New York with them.`  
`I hate this place.`

Merlin can almost hear Uther saying something like that. It sounds exactly like him, highly reserved and unpitying. He's always been a bit scared of Arthur's father.

`I'm sure it's not that bad. You just have to get used to it. Don't fuss.`

Does it sound like something Morgana would say? Merlin isn't sure, but Arthur's seems to buy it.

`At least, I can always rely on your heartfelt sympathy, Morgana.`

There is a smiley and then the words:

`Thanks for keeping your promise.`

 

_It's 2000, springtime and the sky is blue. Uther's stowing away the last moving box in their car and Igraine gives the three teenagers a nod. It's time to say goodybe._  
_They're standing outside on the street. Merlin can smell the tarmac and the fumes and for a moment all he can do is to stare at the wheels of the car, imagine them to start rolling. To take away Arthur, to a distant place._

_Morgana puts her arms around Arthur and Merlin can see how his eyes shut when he hugs her back, inhaling the scent of her hair. When they part, he smiles at her, reminding her of writing him._  
_Every day!_  
_She grins, but Merlin can see that she's already getting teary-eyed and he knows that she will leave, as soon as the car has started. She hates being weak.  
Arthur holds out his hand and Merlin seizes it, shaking it, because they're fourteen and they're manly and no, they won't cry. _

_"You can write me, too." Arthur says. It sounds like a privilege._  
_When the car drives off, he realizes that this might have been the last time he's felt Arthur's hand on his own or the twist in his stomach when their skin touches accidentally._  
_Puberty is an awful thing to get through._

3.

At first it's a contest, well something like that. Who manages to write Arthur more mails in one week, on one day? Morgana's parents are some sort of flower people (in her own words) and maybe that's just another reason for Arthur to be in love with her. Uther wouldn't be pleased if his son would decide to wed some hippie girl. Most definitely not.

Anyway, Morgana doesn't have a computer and so she uses Merlin's, his account, to tell Arthur what he's missing. 

Her new yellow dress. How Leon fell into Lance's pool, fully clothed. Her fifteenth birthday.  
However, she forgets to tell him how Leon dragged her in the pool the same day. How they both laughed in the water even if her yellow dress was completely ruined. How they started to hold hands on her birthday after she blew out the candles.  
It's just a matter of time until Morgana doesn't need Merlin's computer anymore, but rather his advice. Boys are complicated after all.

For some reason everybody seems to move on quite easily. Arthur complains, but the mails which are addressed to Merlin dwindle in number, little by little. Although his inbox is filled with messages (Morgana shrugs and hurries off to her first date).  
And Merlin asks himself if he's merely stuck in the past.  
Why on earth would he keep on writing someone who rarely bothers to reply? 

Every story has its beginning and for Merlin it starts out with a well-intentioned thought. Well, sort of. Maybe it's because Arthur left three months ago and Merlin can feel that summer's about to end. Maybe it's just the fact that it's three o'clock in the morning and that fifteen year old boys should be in bed by now. Maybe it's nothing.

It feels like a joke, a spontaneous brainstorm when he types: 'Best wishes, Morgana'.  
And he sends off the message before he can change his mind.  
Afterwards, there are regrets, having done something this stupid for no reason at all.  
But this time, Arthur answers quickly and he sounds so honestly _happy_ even if it's just letters, black on white, and Merlin's heart takes a leap. It would be so simple to tell him the truth, to say it was a mistake and to bid him goodbye once and for all, but Merlin doesn't.

oOo

He persuades himself that he's doing it for Morgana. And for Arthur.  
She promised to write him and he's obviously eagerly awaiting her mails.  
So it's just the right thing to do, isn't it? Everybody wins, everybody's happy.

`I'm working at my father's hotel at the moment. Guests get on my tits.`

A lot of things change, but Arthur never does.

 

It's 2007, which means just another year on college until they'll be free. Then university, a job, marriage, children. Life's moving forward so goddamn fast, sometimes Merlin doesn't know if he really wants to keep up with the pace.

`Don't be such a prat.`

Merlin smiles while he types his reply.

`I read this book you've mentioned. I think there is an underlying message: be content with the small things in life. Obviously you didn't get the deeper meaning.`

`A: Do you remember this one time when I hired ninjas to cut off your fingers?`

`Actually, I liked the book. Very much. Sometimes I'm surprised by your taste. By the way:`  
`Do you remember this one time when I was laughing at your threats?`

oOo

In some way it's just like back then, when they were younger. They almost always like the same things.  
Only now Arthur seems to recognize how much they have in common.  
They can discuss some stupid film quote until the words stop to make sense. They can have an argument about the saddest song in the world and refuse to agree but when it appears on the radio later that day, or in the evening at some bar, they both have to swallow for a second.  
But they never tell the other.

From time to time, Merlin almost forgets what he's doing. That it's not _him_ Arthur's telling all these things. That he's obtaining these messages by fraud. That he's only getting these glimpses at Arthur's life because he uses Morgana's name.  
But most of the time, it's really easy to ignore the facts.

4.

`I'll arrive on Saturday.`

It's 2010 and it's just a small, harmless sentence and yet Merlin can feel his insides turn around when he opens the message. For a minute or so, he just glances at the screen of his new laptop, before he realises that his mouth is getting dry and that this is not a heart attack, but sheer bloody panic.

oOo

"It's no big deal." Morgana's sitting on his new kitchen table, cross-legged, "If you don't want him to stay with you, he can sleep at my place."

This is such a bad idea for so many reasons (one of them being that Leon is probably the sweetest guy on the planet, but when it comes to his ex-girlfriend, he can get rather grumpy), but Merlin just shakes his head: "That's not the problem."

"So, what _is_ the problem, Merlin?" She combs her hair with her fingers in a manner that must surely drive most boys mad.  
Merlin's not most boys. He's also confused.

"I don't know." He says lastly, feeling utterly like an idiot, "It's been ten years since we've seen him and now he just decides to come for a spontaneous visit, because he's got two weeks to dawdle away. What if we don't get along with each other anymore?"

Morgana sips at her coffee, shrugging: "He's still our friend, isn't he?"

She's so annoying, when she's right...

oOo

Airports are great, according to Morgana. All these impressions, all these people. Arriving, leaving, embracing, waiting, fighting, kissing. She says it's like some microscopic version of life. All at once and at a certain place, cumulative and exciting and then everybody's leaving.  
Maybe she's right.  
Merlin just thinks that he doesn't like crowds of people or the rush or the noise.  
But when Arthur's ambling through the gate, anticipation glowing in his eyes and lurking in the corners of his mouth, everything else becomes subordinate anyway.

He can't recall a time when he _didn't_ find Arthur beautiful and nothing has changed.

 

_He's eleven again, when they were tickling each other and suddenly there was this **something** in his chest that made it hard to breathe for a second. _

_He's thirteen... when he closed his eyes, trying to imagine how it would have felt like if it hadn't been Morgana Arthur had been kissing, but him._

_He's fifteen... when he had his first dream about him and realised that feelings aren't always this innocent. Or maybe it wasn't even like that and he was just too ashamed to think about it, ever again._

 

He's twenty-four, he's standing at the airport and this old **something** is fluttering in his chest and there is a kiss tingling on his lips that has never occurred and his cheeks are feeling hot, because he might know by now what desire feels like, but it's still not something you just get used to.

"Morgana!" Arthur winks and he's actually beaming while he's approaching them, "Morgana." he says, drawing her close for a hug. "Morgana..." he whispers into her ear.  
She laughs, because she doesn't take men all too seriously, especially not him but nevertheless she seems happy to see him again. His eyes are glued to her face and she giggles and Merlin feels like someone has pulled the rug out from under him, because Arthur's _(still, always, again)_ in love.

Only that he's looking at the wrong person...

"Merlin." They shake hands, exchanging a smile and a casual nod.

Walking out of the airport, they start to talk, a bit insecurely, a bit carefully, moving on slowly like someone who's testing the ground in the swamp, because ten years is a long time and a lot of things have happened since that day in spring in front of Arthur's old house.  
But after some minutes it becomes easier and the day is bright and sunshiny and Morgana grins about a joke Arthur's made. Some things never change.  
Merlin's smile's ceasing, though. Slightly, slowly, softly, while they get into the cab and drive off. He looks out of the window, only to see their talking reflections in the glass, Arthur and Morgana.  
Morgana and Arthur.  
And just Arthur, when he's closing his eyes a bit, blinking against the bright sunlight.

Arthur's a lot of things.  
Morgana's first kiss and Merlin's first love and maybe they all are connected, in some way and Merlin wonders if he's the only one to think about it this way.

5.

"It's amazing how you've managed not to lose sight of each other."

It's already evening and they're sitting in some pub, drinking beer and becoming accustomed to the sound of their voices.

"What are you on about?" Merlin asks, looking out for Morgana who said she would just get another pitcher, but is now already gone for more than fifteen minutes and he's not sure if he likes the unspoken question which is lurking in Arthur's eyes.

"I'm just saying... ten years and you still seem to be very close." Arthur sets down his glass, glancing over at the counter, where black hair is shimmering in the dim light. "It's not like... I mean, she's never said anything about it, but... she still uses your e-mail account... I was just wondering..."

"We're friends." Merlin says in this steady, meaningful voice he uses every time he has to explain his relationship with Morgana to some bloke.  
Which happens twice a month, approximately.

"Right." There is a somewhat guilty tone in Arthur's reply and Merlin watches him inspecting the table surface, like there wouldn't be anything comparatively interesting in the whole room but nevertheless, he's not prepared for the next words. "I should have written to you more often." A pause, filled with an awkward glance and a sip of beer. "Written to you too, that is." Arthur's looking everywhere, but not into Merlin's eye. "We've all been friends for such a long time. I don't blame you for stopping to try."

It's one of these things you say when you've drunk too much and you start to get a little sentimental and yet Merlin doesn't know how to react. He's expected a lot of things, but not this. And he's not sure if he's supposed to laugh or to cry.

Naturally, this is the moment when Morgana reappears, a pitcher in her hands and a smile on her face. Arthur seems quite happy to see both.

"No harm done." Merlin murmurs, grabbing his glass and emptying it in one gulp.

At least, it can't get worse...

oOo

Of course it can.

When they come home to Merlin's place, Arthur sits down on the couch, still in his coat, still in his shoes and stares at the carpet for some seconds.

"I don't get it."

"What are you talking about?" Merlin walks around the upholstery, squatting down in front of him.

"I've no idea."

"Arthur, it's been a long day. We've all had a bit too much to drink and you just got off your plane. Tomorrow will be time enough."

"Coming here... It's not what I expected it to be."

"What _did_ you expect, Arthur?"

He looks up at him and then he buries a hand in his blonde hair, tousling it even more: "Something. Anything. I don't even know." A self-ironic chuckle. "God, I feel like an idiot."

"That's because you _are_ an idiot," says Merlin, grinning weakly, feeling his heart throbbing in his chest like a caged bird, and offering him a hand to get him up from the couch.

Arthur considers this for a moment, shrugging off the insult before he accepts. The stand up together, suddenly close, right there in the middle of Merlin's living room. It's almost four in the morning and the whole world seems to be sound asleep around of them.  
Like there'd be no one else, except for them.  
Which is a crazy and stupid thought that Merlin wishes he wouldn't think just now.

Arthur's watching him, he can sense it and he's almost imagining that he can feel his breath on his face, but surely that's just the hour of the day and the alcohol and all these silly mails. Nothing else.

"Good night." Arthur says lastly and heads for the bathroom.  
In the door frame, he turns around once more, giving him a crooked smile: "Then again you, Merlin, you haven't changed a bit. You're still way too nice to people who don't deserve it." 

"Is this supposed to be a compliment?"

"It's supposed to be a thank-you." 

And then the door closes behind him and Merlin stands there alone, feeling like a stranger in his own home and maybe he should just walk out of the room, out of this flat, because apparently he's really good at pretending to be someone else but at the moment he can't even pretend to be himself. Not when Arthur's around.

`Do you remember this one time when I couldn't sleep all night, just because I knew you were in the other room and I couldn't understand why it felt like you were miles away, even if it were merely a few steps...?`

6.

The following days are filled with reunions, the visitation of places where they used to go and the discovery of new ones and there is actually no time to talk about this first night and neither Arthur nor Merlin attempt to do so and slowly, surely, things are getting back to normal.

They laugh and they eat and they talk together, remembering old jokes and even older friends.  
They are over at Lance's house while his parents are on Maui, relaxing in the sun next to the pool. They're sitting in Gwen's kitchen late at night, listening to her stories about the people at the hospital where she's working. They show up at Leon's party, only three hours late. How time flies when you can't stop laughing about some silly old joke.

How a wanton mood can alter, just because a trifle is baffling you more than it should.  
Morgana's dancing with Gwen, in the middle of the room, moving to the music like they've forgotten about the rest of them and Arthur's pouting, because he doesn't get her attention.  
Could it be some sort of ritual that one of them ends up with a broken heart, every single time at some stupid party?

"Are you all right?" Merlin asks when he comes across him, out there on the balcony where he's smoking one of Lance's cigarettes.

"Yes. No." Arthur replies, making no sense whatsoever and flipping off ashes over the balustrade. "Sometimes I think she doesn't like me at all."

"Of course she does." 

"I didn't mean _like_ me, not in that way..."

Merlin draws breath, feeling weird, out of place and maybe a bit drunk again: "There's a difference between seeing someone in person and just reading their messages. Letters are stable, people are not."

"But..." Arthur's shaking his head by now, offering Merlin the cigarette and before he can think about it he takes it out of his warm fingers and there is this damn twist inside his stomach when Arthur's skin brushes against his own for a fraction of a second. "But things doesn't change just like that. How can you feel this close to someone and the next second it's like it has never happened? How can words make you believe that there is something between you and this other person when there's nothing at all?"

"Arthur..." the smoke is bitter and prickly in Merlin's throat and maybe that's just the way he feels right now. The way he's felt for the last ten years. Bitter and sweet and prickly and numb and now he's running out of names for the feeling in his chest when Arthur's watching him like he's waiting for some kind of advice.

"How can you think you know a person, really _know_ somebody, almost better than you know yourself and then look into their eyes and see... nothing..." Arthur says quietly and his gaze is still resting on Merlin's face.

Merlin's tongue is flickering over his lips, because they're dry and they taste like wine and cigarettes and he returns Arthur's look. They do not move, none of them saying a word while the silence between them deepens. The sounds of the party are dulled by the glass door, nothing but distant noises, belonging somewhere else, not into this moment.

"Maybe..." Merlin breathes and Arthur keeps silent. "Maybe you just have to try harder when you're looking at somebody..."

"Do you think?" Suddenly Arthur's fingertips are there, just an inch away from Merlin's cheek and there is confusion in his eyes, like he's scared of his own question, scared of the answers Merlin could give him, scared of the possibilities.

When the glass door opens with an abrupt movement, they both flinch as though they've been caught doing something forbidden. Music, laughter and Morgana's voice are streaming out in the quietness of the night and the moment is gone.

"Hey boys, can we please go home? Leon is in of his moods..."

Arthur's clearing his throat, before he makes a step backwards in her direction, away from Merlin: "Sure," he eyes up her face. "We could go to your place, watch 'Harold and Maude', haven't seen that one in ages."

"What?" She grimaces. "Oh gross, why would you want to watch _that_?" She doesn't wait for him to respond, turning to the room again and calling out for Gwen.

It's the sudden pain on his fingers, that's pulling Merlin out of his torpor. The cigarette has burned down up to the last bit and the hot embers burns on his skin when he throws it over the balcony, out into the darkness where it dies down like a suicidal glow worm.

"I just thought..." murmurs Arthur, to no one in particular, staring at Morgana's back. "I was thinking..." he trails off. "I don't know what to think. Not anymore..."

7.

Ten days. It's already been ten days and Merlin's almost glad when he can go back to work on Monday, after Leon's party, more fleeing from- than walking out of his flat, leaving Arthur behind on the couch, leaving behind all these feelings, these memories.  
The thought of what _could have been_...

Oh, this moment on the balcony, how can it still be so damn present in his mind, when it's supposed to be nothing but a vague recollection? How can it make him shudder, now, again, hours later and how can he still feel this almost-touch, this almost-connection and this...  
Just this.  
It seems to be everything he can get from Arthur. A heap of 'this'-es and 'almost'-s and memories.  
But this won't do. Not anymore.

"What's going on with you today?" His gaffer asks, sounding honestly concerned and Merlin doesn't know if he can take it any longer.  
The worries, the fake smiles, the situation.  
There was a time when he had an explanation for his behaviour, for all these little lies. They seemed so justifiable, once upon a time. But they aren't anymore, because they're dragging them down, all of them, not just him.

Arthur's in love. Morgana's not. And Merlin definitely is.  
Has been. Will always be.  
Because Arthur's the only one, he knows it, he knows it with a certainty that's sometimes hard to take, but there is no denying, because this is life and these are the facts.  
When your feelings are unrequited, it makes no difference anyway.

When he comes home later that day, feeling worn out and exhausted and like a shell – yeah, that's it, he's empty and hollow and he's laughing a bit because seriously, life shouldn't be like that, but it is – Arthur's there, in his living room, looking pale and bleary-eyed and it feels a lot like they're both faking right now. Faking to be happy, faking to be alive, while everything is falling apart around of them.

"Merlin..." Arthur looks up from his cup of tea and Merlin has the sudden need to touch the dark circles beneath his eyes, to touch _something_ to make this real, because it doesn't feel real and it hasn't felt like this for such a long time.

"Hey Arthur," he lets his bag fall on the floor, wishing he could do the same thing, just sinking down and falling asleep sleeping-beauty-style, until this is over and maybe, maybe he can go back to his life from then on, stop pretending and starting to _be_.  
But he also knows that he can't, not as long as Arthur's here.

Arthur takes another gulp of tea, watching the curtains, the carpet, the walls and finally meeting Merlin's eye: "I wasn't drunk yesterday."

"You weren't?" Merlin echoes, standing in the door frame, not sure what to make of this.  
Not sure what to make of himself.

"No." Arthur's staring into his tea again. "Just thought you should know."

"I've no idea what you're talking about." Merlin murmurs, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes.

"Oh." Arthur's clearing his throat. "Oh, but I got the impression..." Merlin can hear him swallowing, again and again, like there'd be something creeping up on his lips he doesn't want to keep down, but doesn't know what to do with otherwise. "Forget it, it's nothing. I should keep my mouth shut. To Morgana. To you. There's no point..." another sip of tea. "I guess that's what words are, at the bottom. Meaningless. Just letters, one after another and no entity at all." He closes his eyes and the tea cup meets the table surface with an almost violent beat. "Shit..."

"What happened?" 

Thirty seconds, a minute and another one gone and Merlin can feel the words prickling on his lips, pressing his tongue against his teeth and looking up at the wall clock to make sure he hasn't fallen out of time.

"Talked to Morgana." Arthur's voice's toneless. "She and Leon... they're together. Again."

Merlin's nails are digging into his hand. He hasn't even noticed that he was clenching his fist, but now he's opening it again, stretching the fingers and drawing breath: "Really?"

"Oh yeah..." he actually manages to chuckle and Merlin thinks he hasn't heard anything this sad in his whole life and bloody hell, his own story must be something _quite_ sad, right?

"He rang her after the party." Arthur continues. "I had no idea they were a couple back then. We've never talked about relationships, oddly enough. There are a lot of things I don't know, I take it." His hand's shaking a bit. "It's really ridiculous. I've got everything, a good job, a good life and yet I'm still clinging to this damn stupid fantasy that I could get together with my childhood's heartthrob, just because..." his shoulders are shaking too by now and Merlin's heart's beating a bit too fast. "Well, just because... no reason at all. I thought life could be a fairytale, turns out it's not. It's coming as no real surprise..." Arthur's chest lifting and lowering, unsteady, and Merlin realises he's never seen him crying before.

"Arthur," he steps into the living room, with this strange feeling and the idea that the world's stopped to move, also just because...  
And just maybe, if this moment in his grandmother's garden with the swing was the beginning of everything, then this could be the end...  
Because this is how it feels, isn't it?

"Merlin." Arthur's hand is already brushing over his cheeks, because there's no difference between being fourteen and being twenty-four when you're feeling like your tears will only start to become real when somebody's witnessing them.  
Maybe life itself doesn't change at all and things are just getting faster until you forget that there's been another time, that it hasn't always been like this.  
Maybe, maybe, maybe.

"Merlin," he repeats, taking a deep breath. "Could you please tell me that I'm an idiot, again? Because I certainly feel like one." A weak grin. "Besides, it wouldn't be this awkward if you'd just say something. Anything. Please."

He wants to say 'I love you' but he doesn't.  
He's never done it.  
And he never will, probably.

"It'll be alright, Arthur." He's giving him a smile, feeling his heart breaking once more, just a little even though he thought it couldn't. "Everything. I promise."

8.

_Three days left._

They don't catch sight of Morgana, naturally, but it seems to be better than the alternative, by all means.  
She's like a shooting star. Bright, shiny and gone in the blink of an eye. Beauty case in one hand, coffee mug in the other, she's rushing to Leon's flat and that's it.  
At least till their next fight, their next break-up, their next pause for reflection.  
Some people have these kinds of relationships, they can't stand to be without each other and they can't stand to be together.

Gwen just rolls her eyes and says they'll have to wait until it's over again, because it always starts and ends like this. Ebb and flow. Moon phase.  
Apparently, all of them have some sort of image in their minds to describe Morgana.

"She's a witch." Arthur announces, sitting on Merlin's couch once more. "All this time I fell for her, over and over again and she _must_ have been aware of what she was doing to me, but in the end..." he's gesturing vaguely. "In the end it's nothing but enchantment, spells... nothing more..."

Merlin knows about the five stages of grief, of course he does. But he doesn't know if there's something similar, a model for lovesickness. If so, then they've skipped denial, except Arthur's way of denying things is to sit in Merlin's living room, watching the blank wall, the whole night, the whole day long. And according to his words they might be as well at anger.  
Be that as it may, it's better than listening to his silence.

"Would you like to go out and get some food?" Merlin asks, because the fridge is empty and so is Arthur's gaze.

He shakes his head. No.  
Alright, maybe they've already reached depression... or they've never left...

"Do you want to watch a film?"

"Maybe later."

"Arthur... you can't just sit there the whole day, staring into space."

A quiet sigh: "I've just realised that my perceptions of the last ten years have been nothing but wishful thinking, Merlin. I've lost her. So give me a break, would you?" Arthur raises his eyes, only for a second, before he focuses on the wall again. "Do you have any idea how this feels like?"

Once in a while, you come across something, some silly question, some stupid look that hits all the right spots for all the wrong reasons.  
And Arthur's been Merlin's sore spot for all his life.

He's already shaking when he gets up from his armchair, staring down at him: "Yeah Arthur, as a matter of fact I do!" He shouldn't, he shouldn't, he shouldn't... "This might come as a stunner, but other people have feelings, too!" It wouldn't be this bad, there wouldn't be this burning knot in his stomach, if it weren't _him_. "For the last twenty-four hours you haven't moved and you've barely said anything! I know you feel bad and I know things are screwed up, but that's no excuse to act like... like this!" He draws breath, suddenly feeling drained. "We all suffer, Arthur." He adds lastly, just glad his voice isn't wobbling.

The wall clock is ticking, surprisingly loud in the following silence while they look at each other. Arthur, sitting there calmly, still a bit pale, and Merlin, standing in the middle of the room, breathing hard and fast.  
God, it's not even like he _meant_ to say all these things... 

"Wow." Arthur murmurs after another second of uncomfortable stillness. "I think, I kinda needed this."

"I'm sorry." Merlin sinks down next to him on the couch, closing his eyes to concentrate on the wild beating of his heart. "I really am. I just don't know..."

There is an infinite sum of endings to this sentence.  
I just don't know... what to say anymore.  
I just don't know... what's coming next and it's scaring me.  
I just don't know... why I'm too cowardly to tell you the truth.

Would it make any difference if he would tell him that it's been him, all these years? That it's never been Morgana, never been what he thought it was? Just pretty little lies for ten years and two weeks?  
Arthur's right, he's already lost Morgana.  
But then again, he's never _had_ her, not really.  
And would he lose Merlin, too, when the truth would come out?  
Is this thing between them any more real than the fake connection Arthur bemoans right now? 

"Don't be sorry." Arthur's hand on his shoulder, Arthur's laughter in his ears, not quite roaring, but it's a start. "I've already told you, you're way too nice from time to time. It's good to see..." Merlin opens his eyes again, glancing at him in confusion, mouthing a 'What?'. "It's good to see you can be upset, just like everybody else." Arthur actually grins, even if it's a bit crooked and his fingers are still resting on Merlin's arm. "Just good to know... that you care..."

"I've always cared, Arthur." Merlin whispers, somewhere between anger and exhaustion.

Fingers moving on the fabric of his shirt. Too little to call it caress, too much to persuade himself it's merely accidental. They sit there, side by side, touching and not touching at the same time, breathing into the silence until Arthur says: "I know." 

It's hard to tell what they're talking about, just now. Sometimes Merlin thinks he should be able to figure out Arthur, because yeah, he sort of knows him really well. But most of the time he isn't even sure if they understand just one of the words they're saying to each other.

This could be all, this could be nothing.  
A chance, a crushing defeat, one of _these_ moments of change and the beginning of something, **this something** in his chest and also the end of something else.  
But maybe it's not and his heart is fluttering, when Arthur looks up at him with this wondering expression in his eyes...

"Let's watch this movie you've mentioned, alright?"

The noises of the telly, the bluish light, Arthur's warmth next to him, while it's getting dark.  
It's all so familiar and so unknown at the same time.  
The past. The future. Memories and hopes.  
Whilst Arthur's breath starts to come in constant intervals, Merlin closes his eyes, just for a minute or so.

_I just don't know... why this should be everything?_

9.

_Two days left._

They stroll around London, not looking for new or old places, but watching everyday life passing by. Just keep on walking, because it's easier to stop thinking when your legs are busy and impressions are filling your eyes and ears.  
It's started to rain some hours ago, but that's okay.  
From time to time, a smile is creeping up on Arthur's lips, Merlin can see it through the grey curtains of thin drops. But when Arthur looks at him, he's already turned his head into another direction.

Things are simple. Things are complicated.  
And they're caught somewhere in between...

"You know, in the beginning, after we've moved to New York, I missed London so much, I missed you and Morgana so much..." they're sitting in a coffee shop near Merlin's flat and the rain is dropping from their coats, forming a puddle of water on the floor. "... there was this one day when I took all my pocket money and drove to the airport, all the way by myself." Arthur looks out of the window. "I've never got to the plane, there was no flight at exactly that time and the security was calling my parents, of course..." Merlin wraps his fingers around his coffee mug, enjoying the warmth. "Uther freaked, you should have seen him. There was this... vein, throbbing on his temple, uh, I thought he would kill me." He's shaking his head by now. "He grounded me for almost two weeks. I think he was convinced that I would do it again and that I would succeed this time..."

"Sounds like him." Merlin says, setting down the mug and eyeing Arthur's face. "It's funny though... I've never heard that story," He casts down his eyes. "Not that I remember."

"I've never told anyone about it." Traces of laughter in Arthur's voice. "I was fourteen, and running off was the closest thing I've got to a plan. I was mortified."

The coffee brewer is hissing somewhere in the background, an elderly couple is talking insistently to each other a few tables away and when several students rush out of the rain into the shop, cold air is floating into the room. Merlin can feel it prickling on his neck and his fingers are touching the chilly spot before he even realises what he's doing.

Arthur's watching him and it's one of these glances you can actually sense.  
Intense, curious, a bit pensive.

"It was a difficult time, for all of us." He's very careful not to meet Arthur's gaze and the coffee is hot on his tongue when he sips it. "I wouldn't want to be fourteen again, not for love nor money."

Fourteen, when Arthur moved away.  
Fourteen, waiting for his messages, all night long, getting the worst mark he's ever got at maths.  
Fourteen, when he just began to understand his confusion.  
Also: a decision, a false name, a prelude to this song called adulthood.

"Oh God, me too." It's a bit of a moan, the noise that's escaping Arthur's lips, and suddenly Merlin has a hard time swallowing his hot beverage, eyes focused on the table surface, much like that first night when Arthur just had arrived and both of them were so self-conscious for some seconds.

"I'm glad we've managed in the end." Arthur adds, and meanwhile there's nothing pensive in his voice anymore and Merlin has to look up, whether he wants to or not.

"You mean that we've all managed to get through puberty without ending up on the wrong plane, heading to no-man's-land?"

"No." The letters are slowly dripping from Arthur's lips, slowly like the raindrops which are still falling from their clothes. "No, I meant this. Us. Being friends again."

 

_Friends._  
_Merlin thinks about the beginning of this day._  
_When he woke up on the couch, close beside Arthur, while the soft, insubstantial morning light was filling the room with ghostlike shapes and he was a bit afraid to move, because it could break the spell..._

_They've fallen asleep next to one another once before, from time to time, when they were young. Children._  
_When they were friends._

_This morning was different, though._  
_The soft whispers of the telly and the even softer movements of Arthur, waking up – not only on Merlin's couch, but almost in his arms._

_There was this moment when he was sure that one of them would freak, because this is how you usually respond to such a situation, right? Two mates on a couch, more or less snuggled together, because it's been a long night and an even longer day and things like this can happen?_  
_But still, you get up and you freak a bit. Just as expected._  
_Because this is what you do, this is how you handle this inadvertent intimacy, this is how you put things in perspective._

_Arthur just moved a little, until he could look up at Merlin, out of sleepy, blue eyes. His hair was tousled and his voice was husky, so early in the morning, when he murmured 'hello' and no, Merlin's wasn't shivering, but sitting there quietly and waiting for him to grimace at least._

_"Did they get together?" Arthur asked, rubbing his eyes and making no move to flee the couch._

_"Who?" It was way too early and that was the reason why they were still seated, no more, no less..._

_"The two people in the movie we've watched. Did they get together in the end?"_

_To be honest, Merlin didn't remember. He knew they've been watching something, he remembered the dusk and the sound of Arthur's breath filling the room. It was hard to imagine that there had been something else out there..._

_However, he closed his eyes, licked his lips for a second: "Yes, Arthur. They got together. They always do in Hollywood films."_

_"That's good." Arthur said after a pause for reflection. "I think it's supposed to be this way..."_

_When you've been friends for all your life, how do you tell apart the beginnings from the ends...?_

 

"Don't you think?" Arthur asks, bringing him back to now and here, into the coffee shop, away from the couch and away from things, spoken between the lines, as unreal as the morning light.

"Oh." Merlin's not sure what to say. "I guess, you're right."

"I guess you're right?" Arthur repeats, trying to sound offended, but failing miserably because he's already starting to laugh. "You know what, Merlin? Sometimes I think I know exactly what you're going to say next and then..." he bows his head, still chuckling. "... you never do."

It's good to hear him laugh, it really is, but Merlin can't shake off the impression that there's something else, something mixed with his amusement, something... new...

"Arthur, I didn't mean--"

"Oh, it's fine, Merlin, it's fine by me." Arthur's grin is fading, slowly but surely and he's taking a deep breath. "I know I've got a lot to make up for. It's not like these ten years have never happened, just because I pop up for two weeks and monopolize you. But..." he trails off. "It would be nice if it'd be that easy..."

Merlin swallows the lump in his throat: "Honestly Arthur, you've got an incomparable talent of ruining perfectly sentimental moments at the last minute, just by reminding me that you're a prat after all."

Arthur smirks: "Is this supposed to be a compliment?"

Merlin draws breath: "It's supposed to be a thank-you."

10.

_One day left._

The last day.

What are two weeks in summer, compared to your entire childhood? Compared to ten years of writing down all these stupid, great, trivial, extraordinary things – writing down _life_ in some way – and sending them off with just one mouse click to the one and only person you know who will _understand_ why you considered them important, once?  
What are two weeks in relation to everything else?

And what are you supposed to do with this one remaining day, with this fistful of hours, trickling through your fingers like sand?

"Let's stay at home." Arthur says from the kitchen door and Merlin sets down the water boiler, with somewhat shaky fingers and bemusement in his voice.

"What? Arthur, your flight is booked for tonight." Saying it out loud doesn't make it more real, let alone more bearable. "We should do something special, something interesting..." he pauses, searching for the right words to describe his intentions- "... something... culmination-like." 

"It's still raining, Merlin." Arthur points at the window and the grey sky on the other side of the glass, arching over London like a cathedral's ceiling. "Can you believe we were actually sunbathing just a few days ago?" His tone is changing, becoming reflective when he continues. "One week of sunshine, one week of rain... fitting description for such a holiday, don't you think?" He shakes his head, grinning a bit. "See? I'm already getting philosophical, I'm in no condition to go out."

In some way he's right. The weather has changed, it's already getting colder, a glimpse of autumn in late summer. Just another reminder that time's running out...

"I just think we shouldn't waste the whole day by hanging around my flat once again. Isn't there something you want to do, something you want to see?"

Arthur leans against the door frame, furrowing his brow, while he looks at Merlin: "Sometimes I think I've already seen everything that's worth the trouble of getting up every morning."

It's not his choice of words, but the expression in his eyes that makes Merlin almost shiver, even if just on the inside, and he finds himself stuttering for a second: "Do- don't you believe in new perspectives?"

"Oh, I do." 

Rain, pattering against the window. Car tyres, splashing through puddles. Their breath, filling the distance between door and room. Outside and inside. So close to each other and yet still apart.  
How many hours are left, how many minutes...

"But from time to time I think I should learn to be content with the things I've got. The small things, you know?"

Just another memory. Another mail. At another time.  
Ever and anon, Merlin thinks that he could collect them like autumn leaves, these memories. Colourful, each and every one of them and so alive at one time. He could lay them between the pages of a book, preserving them forever.  
It's just another way of clinging to the past and he knows it's silly, but then again, isn't everybody made of memories, in some way? Isn't a person a concept of the past, starting out as a thought in their parent's minds, the mere result of everything that's been before? And when the past is all this, when memories are the only safe and constant place in life, what about the future...?

_What about you and me...?_

Merlin clears his throat: " _Now_ you're really getting philosophical. Fortunately I've just read that such a state can be cured. By lots of fresh air."

Arthur's eyes seem to become brighter, every time he smiles like this, like he does now: "I hate it when you get the final word, you know..."

oOo

"I can hardly believe it's over." Arthur says, while they walk through the rain-swept streets. "On the one hand, I'm relieved. Two weeks and there's been so much... so many things I wasn't expecting, so much I wished I've never known..." he darts a side glance at Merlin. "On the other hand, I'd really like to stay, just a bit longer..." he shrugs and for a moment he almost sounds insecurely. "Just waiting for... whatever is coming next..."

"Yeah, that would be nice." Merlin replies, keeping his eyes glued to the ground and the tips of his sneakers.

Five words and yet... understatement seems to be too weak a term...

"Oh come on, Merlin." Arthur nudges him in the ribs, just a tiny bit, just enough to catch his attention. "I bet you're looking forward to some peace and quiet. No annoying flatmate anymore. No one to drink all your coffee in the morning, no one to shower when you need to get ready for work--"

"... no one's clothes lying around all over the place, no one who doesn't even consider the possibility of putting out the rubbish once in a while or -- "

"Right." Arthur interrupts him, grinning despite his next words. "Thanks. Good to know that you're so eager to get rid of me."

"I'm not..." Merlin bites on his lips, swallowing the rest of the sentence.

How is it that even their banter makes him feel so breathless now and then?  
How is it that his heart is beating like he's been running for all his life, running away in some sense?  
How is it that even _this_ already feels like goodbye?

Arthur takes a deep breath, stopping in his movement and Merlin makes another step, stumbling and unsteady until he comes to a halt, there on the street and they look at each other.  
Arthur's hands are buried in the pockets of this coat of his, dark and long and there is something like a shadow on his face, something like nightfall in his eyes and Merlin doesn't know what he's supposed to feel right now.

"I..." his shoulders are tense, his whole posture is. "I was just trying to make saying farewell a little bit easier, I guess."

And Merlin feels like an idiot.  
Wasn't he the one who told Arthur that other people had feelings too?  
This is goodbye for both of them, not just for him.  
And that he cares... that Arthur really cares... it just makes things harder, so much harder...

They stand there, while second after second is passing by and when Merlin thinks there's no way of taking this any longer, Arthur reaches out his hand and touches his arm, just briefly and his fingertips slide over the rain-soaked fabric, but still.

_Another leaf, another memory for your collection... there, there... can you feel the beginning of an end...?_

"Come on." His voice is close and far away, husky and calm, all at the same time and Merlin thinks that this shouldn't be possible, but it's just the way it is, the way it feels right now, "I think I know what I want to do..."

oOo

The playground's deserted, at this hour of the day.  
Or maybe it's just the rain. Still summer, but it so doesn't feel like it.

A few trees are guarding the entrance and when they walk underneath them, the rain drops become merely a lapping, a pounding above their heads. Some strange rhythm.  
The world's an empty place, on some days.

"You really want to do this?" Merlin asks, while Arthur climbs on the swing.

Somehow it's very quiet around them.  
The more lively a place is most of the time, the more abandoned it seems when no one's around. It's strange that there's such a word as 'lonelier', but now Merlin thinks he understands.  
Maybe he'll know for sure when Arthur's gone.

"I'd prefer your granny's garden, but this is the next best thing. Plus, I haven't done that since I was a kid."

The swing is moving up and down with his words and they – Arthur and the syllables, bouncing from his lips with his breath – are floating through the autumn-like air and there is this memory again, the one that maybe started everything, because maybe it was this moment, this one moment in life which is a turning point...

And Merlin's watching him, motionless.

What if...  
What if he had taken his hand on this summer day, in his grandmother's garden?  
If he had never let him go?  
What if... this had been _their_ story...?

"Your turn." Arthur's stopped and his cheeks are flushed from the movement and his eyes are glowing with childlike joy.

"Me?" Merlin raises his hands, already smiling, even if he doesn't feel like it. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I am." And then Arthur gets up from the swing, walking up to him and shoving him into the right direction. "Come on, it's fun!"

The seat is a bit wet but then again Merlin's wet all over, thanks to the rain.  
He starts out slowly, lacking in motivation, because come on, they're not nine anymore...  
But when his feet leave the ground and he feels the air brushing through his hair, there's a bit of this old feeling and yeah, maybe you never grow up to be an adult, maybe you just learn how to forget.

He's moving, high and higher into the grey sky and he can hear the sound of the chains and the wind in his ears and Arthur's shouting 'I told you so' and he has no idea why he hasn't done this in such a long time, when it still feels so good.

And when he reaches the highest point once more, he lets go of the chains and flies into the damp air, the greyness of the sky and the ground is moving closer and then there is the impact, when his feet touch the muddy earth and he's stumbling for the second time today, except that now there's Arthur. Arthur's arms, Arthur's chest to stop him and then they're standing there, together alone, and Merlin's heart's beating even faster than just a second ago.

_A children's game. Playing hide and seek. Playing tag. This one moment of fear, of excitement, when you think you can't take it any longer. Being found and being caught.  
And this..._

"You're a bit crazy, you know that?"

You can imagine for all your life what it would feel like to be close to a person, but when you really are, it's never the same.  
And it's meaningless at this point.

Arthur's hands are on his back, and his breath is there, just a heartbeat away.  
Water's dripping from his hair, over his face and rain drops are caught in his lashes and Merlin stares, because he's beautiful and he's close and... _here_...

"A bit crazy and a bit too nice and completely unpredictable." Arthur murmurs, somewhat self-forgotten and Merlin thinks that his skin feels to tight for some reason and maybe he should be worried about this but he isn't, because it seems to be right this way and it's so easy to ignore what's wrong.

"Still trying to make saying goodbye easier?" Merlin whispers through the rain, even if he seems unable to recognize his own voice right now.

"Maybe..." there's a change in his eyes, but his hands are still at the same place and both of them don't move while the moment stretches and the rain is falling around of them, cool and steady from distant skies and Merlin doesn't know anymore if this is supposed to hurt or to to make him smile.

_Two weeks in summer and a childhood's memories... and everything in between... that's us..._

11.

_An unknown number of moments left._  
What's important, anyway?

Merlin's eyes are following a drop of rain, trickling all the way down from Arthur's hairline to his jaw, maddeningly slow until it lingers at his chin for a second, one perfect oval, time's frozen... and then it falls.  
Away down, to the ground where it mingles with the other water drops. Dissolving in something that's even greater, washing away the earth until there's nothing left but the innermost layer. The thing that's _actually_ underneath. The truth.  
In some way it's this image which brings him down to earth again.

"Merlin..." Arthur breathes, a gleam of fear in his eyes and his fingers are digging into the fabric of his coat.

This is real, isn't it?  
They're here, they're awake and they're holding each other in this half-accidental, half-intentioned kind of way. Somewhat desperate, somewhat uncomprehending.  
Because this is also something they didn't expect.  
And Merlin's surely expected a lot of things.

But not this.  
Not standing out here in the rain with Arthur, looking into this eyes for an endless second and feeling like he should learn how to breathe again. Not this. Not this.

"Merlin?" 

Oh, how a whispered name can be everything.  
A pleading, the expression of joy, a curse.  
Or a question, in this case.

Perhaps it's true that everybody's looking for answers, each and everywhere. It's part of life, part of being human. The wish to discover, to conquer insight. The need to _know_.  
Why are we here, where do we go, what's going to happen?

And while Merlin's watching all these queries in Arthur's eyes, hanging on his lips and in the air between them, he knows that he's not the answer.  
Not the answer to all this confusion, but the reason Arthur doesn't know what to think anymore.  
Not the cure but the causer of everything that went wrong.

He's convinced him that he was writing to someone else.  
He let him create a dream, standing on the sidelines when his heart got broken.  
He made him fall in love with a phantom.

_How can you even begin to apologise for something like this...?_

"Arthur." Merlin says and _now_ it hurts and there's something in his voice that causes Arthur to close his eyes for a second.

When he opens them again, this shimmer, this second, this moment is gone and what's left is nothing but bewilderment.  
They've been close for these last days. They've been through lovesickness and parties, through sun and rain and _of course_ these are things that bring you together in some sort of way, even if it's just a feeling and not something that's actually _there_.  
From time to time you need someone to hold onto and then you let go again and it's supposed to be alright.  
It's supposed to be everything.

"I think it's time to go." Merlin whispers and maybe six words shouldn't be this painful but they are...

oOo

People, noises, rush.  
An airport, so to speak, but Morgana isn't here this time to tell him what's so great about all this and Merlin doesn't remember what she said.

It seems odd, almost impossible that two weeks should be over, already, and while they're standing there, waiting for Arthur's flight, Merlin catches himself looking around for something. Something that's not actually there, but maybe if you look hard enough, you'll see it, hear it, anyway. Maybe he's looking for themselves, some kind of reflection of the day when they came to meet him here. Echoes of Morgana's laughter and traces of Arthur's smile and a vision of himself, somewhere in that picture.

Just ghosts, shadows, memories, right?  
So much change and yet this appears to be everything that's left.

Arthur's turning from the destination board, artificial lighting reflected in his eyes and a strange smile on his lips. How is it that it makes Merlin's insides turn around, nevertheless?

"Gotta get ready." His hand reaches for the bag, but then he stops in the movement, looking up at Merlin. "So this is goodbye, huh?"

"I guess there's no way to make it easier, actually." Merlin says, shrugging softly and somewhere in the background a coffee brewer is hissing. 

_How is it that everything, every tiny little detail I come across, reminds me of you?_

They're walking up to the flight desk when Arthur draws breath again: "I still..." he shakes his head, like he isn't happy at all with the sound of his voice. "I never would have guessed that it would turn out like this. Each and everything... was completely different from what I've imagined. And now..." he trails off and Merlin bites his lip.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out... for you and Morgana..." 

There it is. An apology. Meaning nothing and everything and it's almost painful to spit it out, because it should be more, so much more, but then again, is there a way to apologise for ten years of lying? 

_I never wanted to lose you and maybe that's what started everything in the first place..._

"That's... okay. It'll be okay, one day. I'll manage." Arthur replies quietly and there's an unreadable expression on his face. "But it's still strange..." he's looking somewhere else, up to the ceiling, to the coffee shop, but not at Merlin, like he'd be afraid the words won't come when he'd look him in the eye. "I came here to find her, finally. And then I... found you. I found you again." He's taking a deep breath, laughing at the same time. "I know it sounds cheesy and stupid and sentimental." He's glancing at him, briefly. "What I meant to say is 'Thank you', I guess."

"You don't have to thank me, Arthur." Merlin murmurs and he's serious.

"I think I do." He pauses for a second, before their eyes meet eventually, holding each other for the longest moment (forever is such a big word when you feel so small). "For everything. If only for being there..."

A slow, hesitant smile, there at the crowded airport, between businessmen and tourists. Lonely travelers and families. Embittered couples and newly enamoured lovers.  
An honest smile and all these feelings are there, together at once, almost too much and yet not enough. It's never enough.

Merlin opens his mouth, because if there's something like the right moment to speak up, then it's _now_.  
And then he hears the song.  
There's this girl, just a few steps away and the earphones of her MP3 player are hanging on her shoulders like little black snakes. The music is quiet, of course it is, but it's _there_ and it's this song.

  
_The Atlantic was born today and I'll tell you how..._

Arthur's hearing it too, Merlin can see it in his eyes and his smile doesn't cease, but there is the hint of a sigh, stuck in his throat, when he remarks: "You know, somebody told me this is the saddest song in the world..." he casts down his eyes and Merlin can start to breathe again, suddenly, "Maybe there's some truth in it, after all."

  
_The distance is quite simply much too far for me to row  
It seems farther than ever before..._

"Goodbye, Arthur." Merlin says and his voice is a lot more steady than the beating of his heart.

"Goodbye, Merlin."

It's hard to tell what he's thinking, when he takes his bag and walks away to the check-in counter. His face is somewhat blank and his fingers are closing tightly around the strap, like he'd need some kind of support, something to remind him where and who he is. But then again, that's probably not the case... just wishful thinking, once more...  
When he's almost there, he turns around again and Merlin feels like he's having some kind of déjà vu.  
How is it that he's always the one to watch him leave?

Arthur's lips move, at first there is no sound, before he utters the words Merlin's been afraid of, without even knowing it: "Maybe... maybe you could write me, once in a while."

"I think I could." Merlin says and it's the biggest lie of all.

_I need you so much closer..._

oOo

Merlin still doesn't know how to call this **something** in his chest, but probably it wouldn't change even a damn bit if he had a name for it. It would stay the same, because it hasn't altered since he's been eleven and was laying on Arthur's bedroom floor, panting for breath and trying to understand why some tickling caused him to nearly choke down his giggle. Why his laughter slowly died away and all he could see were Arthur's blue eyes in the light of an autumn afternoon.  
It was later, so much later when he realised that this had been the first time someone's made him feel this way.

Call it desire, call it love, call it destiny.  
So many names for just one feeling and yet you can't even begin to make sense of it.

All that he knows it that he can't stay and watch the plane moving up into the sky.  
He stood there and watched Uther's car, driving off, ten years ago and it never stopped to hurt, not for a single second. 

When he steps out into the rain, his phone is ringing and yes, maybe it's only fantasy that writes mails, whereas life makes a call...

"Hello?"

"Merlin?"

"Morgana? What's going on? Where are you?"

He can hear her sighing, a bit guiltily: "I'm at your place. Let myself in with the replacement key." And she continues, before he's got the chance to react. "Sorry, I know it's for emergencies, but I really need my salad bowl and I just remembered that I left it on your table, last week."

" _That's_ why you're calling?" Merlin doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry. It just seems so silly, so trivial, that the world just keeps on moving, no matter what happens to you. No matter how much you feel like it's stopped, "Arthur just left." He explains when she remains silent.

"Oh." Morgana draws breath. "I'm sorry, Merlin." It's strange, listening to someone, calling you from your own place, when you're somewhere else, out in the cold, feeling like you've lost something even if it's maybe just another chance. "I know I should have been there. I didn't mean to..." she's almost whispering, "I just want things to work out this time. I really do."

"It's alright," he says and maybe it is. "He'll manage."

She laughs, silently and somewhat cautiously: "I'm not so sure about that. He's still very dependent on other people, don't you think?"

He doesn't know what he thinks, but she keeps on talking anyway: "That's not why I called, though. There was a letter under the bowl, I guess that's why you didn't see it, but it's from New York University and I thought it could be important."

"You've opened it." Merlin says, already knowing that it's true, but still not fully understanding the meaning of her words.

"Yeah..." she only sounds remorsefully for another second. "Oh Merlin, they want to invite you for an interview, can you believe it?" He can hear the heartfelt joy in her voice and maybe he should feel the same but he doesn't. "The thing is that you'll have to show up on Saturday. Which is--"

"Soon." Merlin interrupts, his throat suddenly dry, for wrong reasons once more. "Really soon."

She clicks her tongue and he can imagine her enthusiastic nod: "Right. It's too bad you didn't see it before, you could have taken the same flight as Arthur."

Two weeks, trying to make it through the presence, without getting lost in the past. And almost ruining the future, somewhere along the line.  
Maybe ten years are enough. Maybe it's time to let go...

"Don't tell Arthur." Merlin says, before he can restrain himself and he bites his lip.

Morgana keeps silent for some seconds: "So you didn't get along?"

"That's not the point."

"What's the point then, Merlin?"

He takes a deep breath: "The point's that we're looking at the same things, only to see something entirely different."

_How is it that some goodbyes hurt the most, after you've already said them and before you start to realise their meaning...?_

12.

Merlin knows he should be excited.  
It's just one amongst the million different things he should be, the million things he should do. He should be thankful, he should be nervous. He should laugh and worry and most of all he should _start to get over it_.  
But in the end, there's just this hollow feeling inside, because **something** is missing.

But how can you lose something you never had?  
How can you make everyone else understand when you're lacking all the right words?  
And how are you supposed to smile, when all you want to do is to forget?

Merlin tries hard, he really does. Forgetting, that is.

Getting childhood dreams of swings and smiles, sunbeams and little starts off his mind. Trying to repress the memory of teenage longing, of a hot, soundless summer day when there was nothing but the beating of his heart and his breath in the heavy air and then Arthur's name on his lips, over and over again, until it became just a whisper and for a second he felt like this could bring him closer, back again, in some way...

It would be so much easier if he could only forget.

But sometimes the things that should be easiest are the ones you can never achieve.  
And that's why he's sitting there, on a hotel bed at the end of the world (it feels like that, at least) and his mind is filled with memories.  
Nothing but old feelings in a new city.  
Maybe it doesn't make any difference where you are, when you're lonely.

And a hotel room is probably the perfect place to feel like this.  
Anonymity in some way. Who's been here before, who's going to stay when you've left?  
Can be applicable to another town as well.  
For all you know you could be somebody else, reinvent yourself, making a fresh start.  
Instead of staring out of the window, where the starless sky is turning black above all these lights and the people walking through the streets. Just another Friday evening in late summer and the world still refuses to acknowledge the fact that things stopped to make sense a while ago.

And every time he closes his eyes, he can see Arthur's face and this one last smile.

He didn't plan on sleeping tonight, anyway.  
With a sigh he gets up from his bed, walking through the room to his suitcase and picking up his laptop and his phone. There must be something which is able to distract him.

The display shows him that he missed four calls. One new voice mail.  
While he boots the computer and clicks through the menu until he reaches his e-mail account (old habits die hard), he tucks the phone between ear and shoulder, listening to the electronic voice, head tilted to one side and his tongue pressed again his teeth.

"Merlin?" Morgana once more and she sounds so confused that he freezes, right there on the bed. "Merlin, it's me. I'm sorry if I'm interrupting your preparations for the interview, but... I don't know... it's just..." she draws breath and then she laughs and it's a nervous laughter, which makes him just more anxious. "God, I sound so stupid, don't worry, alright? Nothing bad happened. Just..." He can hear her licking her lips before she utters the next two words. "Arthur called."  
Merlin's hands are hovering over the keyboard and his eyes are glued to the screen.

`New mail.`

"It was totally unexpected." Morgana continues and for one second he's almost forgotten about her, because his heart is beating so goddamn fast when he reads the e-mail address.

"I'm not sure I'll ever see through him, he's so weird from time to time." It's quite easy to imagine how she was shaking her head, making her dark hair moving around her face like a beautiful frame. "I told him that I was sorry I couldn't make it to the airport and he said he was fine, but honestly, he didn't sound like it... not at all." She says and Merlin listens, breathless.  
"But when I asked him what was wrong and if I could do something for him, he just laughed like this would be some kind of brilliant joke." She clears her throat. "Anyways, he said he was trying to call you, but your phone was off and then he murmured something about asking me a question and well..." she clicks her tongue and strangely he thinks that this must be some sort of quirk, because she does it a lot when she's nervous, but it never occurred to him before and it seems so meaningless right now, but he still can't dismiss the thought. "He asked me if I would remember this one time, chasing dragons on a frozen sea, well something along these lines and I'm sorry, but I had to giggle, even if I couldn't get rid of the feeling that he was serious about it..."

Merlin closes his eyes and the room, the screen, the world vanishes, but Morgana's voice is still in his ear, coming out of the warm phone, reminding him that this is actually happening.

"I said no and then I could hear him taking a breath, like this was maybe not the answer he's wanted to hear, but the one he's been expecting." Morgana lowers her voice. "And then he thanked me, it was so _strange_. Merlin, I know you probably don't want to talk to him, but he sounded so sad and..." she breathes into the receiver. "... and I kinda told him you're in New York." a little pause and then another whisper, "I'm sorry."

And then the joint is cut off and the signal is filling Merlin's ear.

The phone slips away, falling down on the covers where the display is still glowing in the darkened room for some seconds, before it goes black.  
So that's it, right?  
The end of a call, the end of... something. Of something that's been everything for the last ten years.

Merlin's finger are shaking just a bit, when he opens the mail.  
It's peculiar. There are things you're totally used to and then – one day – they seem to become something completely alien, like you've never did them before.  
Letters, black on white. It's the first time that reading Arthur's mail makes him feels like this. Foreign, strange, troubling...

 

`Dear Merlin,`

`Do you know what they say about coincidence and fate?`  
`I've never believed in something like that. There's no evidence either way...`

`But I do believe in human stupidity.`  
`Let me tell you a story about two people.`

`One of them is a terrible liar.`

`He stood there on a summer day, watching somebody else fall in love for the very first time.`  
`He had a hard time to breathe around that person, for the following years.`  
`He witnessed a kiss and even if he was supposed to laugh, because he was young (and that's what you do) he just stared and it was another beginning.`  
`He said goodbye when he was fourteen and he did it again when he was twenty-four, and each and every time it meant something more, and the unspoken words were still hanging on his lips when he got small and smaller in the driving mirror or vanished at the crowded airport.`

`He was smiling so many times, but seldom if ever it reached his eyes.`  
`He could be caught looking at that person, but he never said a word.`  
`He tried to be happy for everybody else, but he never tried to be happy for himself.`

`The other one is an idiot.`

`A stupid, blind, bloody idiot`  
`He should have seen all these things, he should have listened to the words between the lines, he should have known that this wasn't everything. He should have realised that the truth was right in front of his eyes, but he didn't. `

`However, they have something in common.`  
`They share ten years and every little dream. Hopes and letdowns and all these little things defining life.`  
`And both of them fail at happiness.`

`PS: They also say the saddest song in the world is every single one they play, whenever a story comes to an end...`

`Arthur`

oOo

He persuades himself that it's all right.  
It isn't.  
He's telling his mirror image that it's not that bad.  
It is.  
He tries to move on, because it's everything that's left to do.  
But he can't.

Maybe it's a good thing that he feels so numb, so unreal, so not-exactly-here when he leaves the hotel the next day to go to the interview. Maybe it's supposed to make everything easier.  
He's there and he talks about the past and the future. About the things he can do (pretending not being one of them anymore...), about the plans he's got, about prospects and about what's coming next. He seems to make a good impression. Maybe he'll even get the place at university.  
And he couldn't care less.

Saturday night in a hotel room.  
Not the end of the world, but the beginning of something new.

 _For the first time in ten years we could live in the same city, again._  
Your, mine, our.  
It's not important anymore, right?

Merlin's lying on the bed, motionless, staring up to the ceiling, when there's a knock at the door.  
Walking up to the other end of the room... it seems to take ages, but when he opens the door, time really does stop and maybe the wall clock's frozen too, because there's no sound. No sound at all, until one of them speaks up.

"You're really here." Arthur says and the door handle is cold under Merlin's fingertips.

"So are you," he responds, watching the tired expression in his eyes and feeling lost for another second. "What are you doing here, Arthur?"

"Hotel belongs to one of my father's friends. He helped me along." He's standing there in the hallway, soft light drawing shadows on his face. "You didn't reply to my message." The words are there, filling the air between them, almost oppressively and yet Merlin doesn't know what to say. "And you've always replied to my messages." Arthur adds.

"What do you want to hear?" Merlin takes a deep breath and it's hard, oh it's so hard to look him in the eye right now. " _What_ do you want me to say, Arthur?"

"I don't know." Arthur murmurs lastly, keeping his eyes glued to Merlin's face. "Just... tell me something that's real."

He knew it would hurt, but it's worse than he's imagined it, so much worse: "The name was fake. Everything else wasn't." He casts down his eyes, because he can't take it any longer. "Everything else was _me_."

"Yes." Arthur utters and then it's quiet around them.

So damn quiet. No traffic noises, no muffled laughter, no rain. Just silence.  
_Is this what's left of us? Is this what we've become, the way we'll grow apart?_

"I..." Merlin says and it's like he has to learn how to talk again. "I'm..." Another deep breath. "I want to say I'm sorry, but I don't think that's enough."

"Maybe." There's Arthur's sigh in this empty hotel hallway. "I don't know..."

The door handle is still so cold under Merlin's skin when he starts to close the door.  
_So that's how you begin an ending, right?_

"Merlin. That's not..." And he stops, looking up from the floor, out of the room and into Arthur's eyes once more. "Do you...?" Arthur begins, only to interrupt himself and his voice his husky, when he starts again. "Do you remember this one time when I was in love with you?" Words, stumbling over his lips. "Madly, truly, painfully amazing in love with you?" He makes a step, towards the half-closed door. "Only that I didn't realise it was you? That it's been you for all this time?"

There is a lump in Merlin's throat and his heart is beating wildly when he replies: "You know that the game's over, when you say something that's true..."

Arthur's eyes have never been this blue, not until now while he looks at Merlin, _really_ looks at him (not for the first time in life, but maybe for the first time since he understands): "I think the time for games is over, anyway."

And then he closes the distance between them and his hands are on Merlin's arms, on Merlin's shoulders, in his hair, until they're cupping his face. They're both breathing faster, already, their faces separated by nothing but an inch of air and this small rest of hesitancy, because this is almost too much. Incredible. And _new_.

"Merlin." Arthur breathes, before he's pulling him closer and their lips are brushing against each other. 

It's a reluctant kiss, at first. Starting out as a peck, a bit clumsy, a bit insecure.  
But then Merlin's moving nearer and his chest is pressed against Arthur's and... right there, their beating hearts, together, not in the room, not in the hallway, but in between.  
And right there the kiss deepens, Arthur's lips becoming warm under his own and he can taste them, can taste _Arthur_...  
Shared breaths and endless seconds.  
Arthur's fingertips on his skin, the movement of his lips, the warmth of his body.  
They've never been this close.

_How long can you take it, waiting for a kiss you're sure of you'll never get? And what do you do when everything is changing, once more?_

"Arthur..." Merlin says, when they break apart to gasp for air. "Arthur..."

Indeed, a whispered name can be a lot of things.  
Mostly a question, because apparently there are always more of them than answers.

"Yes." Arthur's face is still so close and there is something like a smile at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, me too."

Merlin closes his eyes, leaning into the embrace, inhaling his scent: "So... the two people in your story... they got together in the end?"

Arthur's breath is brushing his skin when he replies: "They always do, remember?" And they keep silent, standing there and holding each other and... _this is real, huh_...?

"But it wasn't the end, it was a beginning." Arthur whispers and finally the world's starting to move again.

 

_So many letters, so many ways to form a word. Writing down your name. Writing down my song. Writing the story of our lives..._

 

**The End**  



End file.
